


Faultlines

by nom



Category: Battlestar Galactica 2003
Genre: M/M, PWP, Saul/Lee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-05
Updated: 2010-04-05
Packaged: 2017-10-08 17:36:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/77913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nom/pseuds/nom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saul knows he's not a good man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faultlines

**Author's Note:**

> Wrong pairing PWP written for [](http://community.livejournal.com/bsg_kink/profile)[**bsg_kink**](http://community.livejournal.com/bsg_kink/), set sometime before S2's "Sacrifice."
> 
> **Warning:** Implied dubcon.

Saul is sitting on one of the crates in a storage locker, leaning back but looking down at Apollo's mouth wrapped around his cock.

Apollo's doing a good job today, alternating long licks up the underside of Saul's shaft with good hard suction, no half-assed pussyfooting around for a change. His eyes are closed and a little bruised-looking underneath, but he barely flinches when Saul sets his hand on his head and pushes him further into his crotch.

The boy can't deep-throat properly -- another class that is apparently optional at the gods-damned academy and frakking fancy war college -- but if Saul shoves him down like that, he can almost get those lips to reach his pubes, feel the tightness of Apollo's throat against the head, only letting up when the struggling movements and strangled noises get too much too ignore.

Even with Lee's throat hot and tight around him, Saul's not ready to come yet, so he pulls Lee back so he can breathe and lets him return to sucking and licking for a while. He'll make him take it deep again in a few minutes. When Saul's ready to come and wants to feel that tightness, hear those choking sounds again.

He won't actually let Lee choke, of course. Not only is he Bill's, but the boy's damned useful when he puts his mind to it. Both as the third, no, second-best pilot they've got, and for his smarts, despite his being insolent as hell on occasion.

That's one thing these sessions are good for. To remind him to keep his head down most of the time, properly down where it belongs. Remind him who his daddy's most loyal supporter is -- the one who doesn't mutiny at the drop of a hat. Remind him who makes a lot of the tough calls that let this frakked-up fleet function. Remind him who allocates the majority of the resources everyone wants for someone or something these days.

Yes, it's a pretty picture, Lee down on his knees in front of him like this. Lee's eyes are half-open now but his gaze is absent even with his mouth working dutifully. He looks like he'd prefer not to be touching Saul at all yet is sucking his cock like it's a calling.

Feeling the wet suction and watching Lee's lips move up and down, Saul starts to feel that pleasant glow, the one that comes from enough of the knuckle-draggers' rotgut alcohol combined with a hot wet mouth to frak. Hot wet mouth to draw out those warm sparking sensations that presage orgasm, hot mouth that'll suck the come right out of him and swallow without protest. Like a good Colonial Forces soldier should.

Apollo knows to swallow just fine, even if he's not the most talented mouth Saul's had. What with those initial flicks of his tongue always feeling somehow condescending and his lips being a little thin and disapproving for Saul's taste.

Kara, now, he thinks muzzily, Thrace, she's got a real big mouth. Insubordinate as all frak, never lets up, but talented. Gives no quarter, expects none, and takes it like a man.

Thinking of her spit-slick lips running over his cock, bitten nails driving hard into his thighs, hot tongue lashing right under the head -- frak yes, he can feel his cock swell again and starts thrusting up into Apollo's mouth.

He's seen how Apollo looks at Starbuck, hot-eyed and hungry, doesn't understand why the boy doesn't just frak her and put himself out of his misery, even if she does punch him out right after. Maybe he should give the boy some fath-- uncle-like advice to that effect once he's finished.

Or maybe not, since apart from drinking it's providing the best entertainment available.

Gods-damned comedy it is, Apollo looking at Starbuck and Starbuck sometimes looking back, too stupid to sort themselves out with a good hard frak in a rack, Bill looking like he's not sure whether to announce the banns or punch one of them himself when he sees, and in the meantime Dualla -- who's supposedly being courted by that puppy of Madam President's -- watching Apollo every chance she gets, Bill gripping the edges of the command table tight in sour disapproval when he notices _that_.

Saul recognizes he's maybe not the healthiest man in the fleet when there, there, that -- fleeting images of Bill's hands white-knuckled and Roslin's "airlock him" face, flashing fantasy of bending hot defiant Kara over a console and frakking her hard while everyone watches, while he looks at Apollo, stares him down just like he's doing now, no more vacant gaze but eyes locked as his hips snap up, gripping Lee's head tight so he can grind up harder into his mouth, make the boy take him deeper -- when that's what makes his balls tighten and draw up, makes him finally come, ejaculating hot spurts down Lee's reluctant throat.

After Lee licks him clean and tucks him back into his pants the way he should, Saul takes a drink from his flask.

If he were a slightly better man, Saul thinks, he'd offer Lee some too, take the taste away. But Saul knows he's not a good man. Instead, he looks on as Lee wipes his mouth, gets up and dusts off his knees, sets his shoulders.

"Sir," Lee says, looking away.

"Dismissed," says Saul, and watches Apollo leave the locker.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback? Appreciated, here or [at LJ](http://nomanomynous.livejournal.com/5213.html).


End file.
